


The Last Time

by silenceofthesea



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15827691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silenceofthesea/pseuds/silenceofthesea
Summary: Eighteen years into their journey home.  Chakotay and Janeway consider just what the future might hold.





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in an AU where Voyager hasn’t made it back to Earth and is now eighteen years into their journey. There has been no visit from future Admiral Janeway and no C/7.  
> My heartfelt thanks go to Caladenia whose patience and wise words made this story so much better.

The first time, it was her right hip.

Close proximity to the blast resulted in the joint being shattered in twelve places the EMH informed him grimly, eyebrows drawn so close that they practically merged.  The injury had been near impossible to repair, such was the complex fragmentation pattern. Another millimetre to the left and a particularly large shard of splintered bone would have severed her femoral artery and their captain would have bled out. 

“A lucky escape,” she murmured with a wan half-smile, regaining consciousness to Chakotay’s anxious frown directly in her eye line. “My crew?”

“All safe and accounted for,” he reassured, keeping his voice as even as he could manage.  Then unable to mask his concern any longer, “you took the worst of it.”

Eyelashes fluttered to reveal blue irises of steel. “Captain’s prerogative,” she countered softly. 

There was little point in trying to convince her that she could have sent Tom or Mike in her place, that a trade mission wasn’t worth risking her life. So he remained silent, angling his head and shoulders to block out the harshest of Sickbay’s probing lights and sliding a hand onto her shoulder, for his comfort rather than hers.

He returned five minutes before the end of his shift to find her sparring with the Doctor. Ignoring the EMH’s advice that she shouldn’t walk so soon and finally agreeing to make good on her promise to take the supplements he had recommended. If he hadn’t already been follically challenged the EMH huffed before deactivating, treating the Captain would have most certainly had him pulling out his holographic hair in handfuls.

In uniform slacks and grey tank, Kathryn stood, predictably stoic.  But Chakotay identified her tells: the subtle alteration to her posture to give the appearance that she was favouring one leg by choice.  The arms tucked neatly behind her, almost out of sight, hiding elbows locked to brace her weight. The fast slightly shallow breaths indicative of pain and the wisps of hair plastered against lightly shining cheekbones.  

Her opening gambit was predictable.  “Here to escort me back to my bridge, Commander?”  

He almost laughed at the absurdity but settled instead for the offer of dinner in his quarters to discuss the business of the day.  Slightly blindsided, presumably expecting him to side with the Doctor and insist she take to her bed, she agreed and they left arm in arm.  But less than halfway along the corridor, she paused, one hand shakily finding a bulkhead and he stepped closer, his hand at the small of her back. In contrast to his own waist, thickened by a second decade in space, Kathryn was losing weight. The prominent notches of her lumbar spine beneath his palm tugging at his heart. In the turbolift, given the greenish hue to her complexion, the Captain looked as if she might vomit. Ensign Parsons took a half step in retreat, easing his back against the capsule’s wall, but Kathryn merely exhaled through pale lips, before giving a curt nod in his direction as they exited. Entering the top corridor, their pace slowed to a crawl. At a virtual standstill, the sheen of perspiration on her forehead told him enough was enough. Sliding an arm around her waist, he offered an out.  

“Let’s save my ageing legs, shall we?  And beam from here?”

She hadn’t agreed immediately, tipping her head in apparent thought. He considered what to replicate for dinner and made a mental note to ask Harry to cover his shift, in order that he could cover hers.  Arriving in his quarters, Kathryn accepted his outstretched hands to lower herself onto the couch, a tired smile by way of thanks. She took the mug of vegetable soup with good grace, giving him the satisfaction of knowing she had eaten something. Before deciding to broach the subject that had occupied too many of his hours, he studied her a little sadly.  The established grey at her temples, the network of fine lines around a mouth now too often resting in a slight frown and the exhaustion she wore continually, wrapped around her like a thick cloak.

“I think it’s time to reduce the number of away missions you lead.  We’ve got a fine junior Bridge crew, I’ve been putting them through some tough simulations on the Holodeck, but they need exposure.”

Janeway’s eyes widened.  “It was bad luck, Chakotay. Could have happened to anyone and a junior crew might have come off worse.”

Unconvinced, he shrugged. “I understand your instinct to protect them, but ask yourself, is it really in their best interest? Send them and be the captain from the bridge.”

She glared at him. “I can’t ask others to take all risk while I stay safe in my seat, Chakotay. It’s not my style.”

Calmly, he interlaced his fingers.  “Being a captain doesn’t always require taking risk. It’s about knowing where you’re of most value and it wasn’t on a biobed in sickbay for the entire negotiation with the Hedara. Icheb and Naomi needed you then too.”

She didn’t reply and he chose not to push further, instead replicating a fruit sorbet by way of a peace offering.  She accepted the glass with a wary half smile, but insisted on beaming back to her quarters shortly after, pointedly declining his offer of assistance.

He hadn’t slept that night, tossing and turning and worrying about her.

The hint of a limp that remained did not go unnoticed.  Her stride was a half pace shorter and she lowered herself into the captain’s chair a shade more carefully than before. Those who had been with them since the beginning knew better than to say anything, and the younger officers, Naomi, Icheb and the like, learnt fast not to stare.

 

# #

 The second time, it was her left shoulder.

Compound fractures to the scapula, clavicle, humerus and a dislocated wrist to boot, resulting in considerable nerve damage and a blood clot that travelled to her lung and nearly ended her life.  Lieutenant Commander Kim was ashen with worry when _Voyager_ recovered what remained of the shuttle, having spent seven hours hovering over his semi-conscious Captain with only a basic medkit and an Ensign from Stellar Cartography for company.  That evening, Chakotay made a point of finding Harry in the mess hall. His expression more serious than ever, the younger man rose smartly, very nearly upsetting his meal tray in the process.

“Sir, any news?”

Waving him back into his seat, Chakotay lowered his tray onto the table.  

“The Captain’s well on the mend.  From what I understand you did well to avoid an all-out confrontation with the Bri’Ain.”

Harry smiled at the praise.  “It was unorthodox, but considering our situation, a sound move.”  A fleeting look of doubt crossed his face. “I hope she didn’t think I overstepped my bounds?”

Clasping the younger man’s sturdy shoulder, Chakotay shook his head emphatically.  “Not a chance. That’s what she’d expect of you, to take over when necessary. It’s exactly what you’ve been trained to do.”

The Doctor repaired ninety-six per cent of her injuries and Kathryn made a glib remark that it was a price worth paying to keep the lights on.  But not for the first time, Chakotay saw the concern on the faces of the bridge officers when she returned to her seat. The anxiety flitted from console to console like a small, restless bird as she subconsciously flexed the numbed fingers of her hand.

They were struggling as much as he, it would seem, to watch their Captain continue to put herself in harm's way, being injured and mostly patched up, pretending that it was the same as it was ten years ago when they were both in their forties.  The problem with a generational ship, he reflected, standing alone in Astrometrics and staring at Seven’s latest projection of their course back to Earth, was that one generation had to give way in order for the next to flourish.

With hindsight, he may have picked a bad time to broach the subject again.  Deuterium reserves were running low and bruised by an encounter with a thoroughly unpleasant species intent on their destruction, they had opted for retreat.  Kathryn's limp was more pronounced than usual, one hand permanently at her temple. Nerves were taut and unenthusiastically, he followed her to the ready room where she came straight to the point.

“Something on your mind, Chakotay?”

He sighed.  “Succession.”

Her eyes darkened to a dangerous shade of sapphire before she headed to the replicator.

“Coffee, black. Why now?”

Coupled with the inevitable note of hurt, the hostility set his teeth on edge and he countered with caution.

“It’s not now Kathryn, it’s when.”

She spun on her heel.  “You’re saying that I’m ready to be put out to pasture?  That I’m not doing my job as I should? Our retreat from the Fendomar was tactically sound, they—”

“—I’m not saying either.  You won’t find anyone questioning your ability or your decisions.”

He stood, palms raised in concession and disarmed by the gesture, her tirade stopped abruptly. As did she, a pace short of him, head tipped upwards, eyes holding the slightest shine.

“But?”

In an effort to penetrate the inevitable force field, he risked raising a hand to lightly touch the top of her arm.

“But we need to face the fact that we can’t go on forever. The crew worry about you, Kathryn. Every away mission, every venture into unknown territory, every time you put yourself in harm’s way.”

Exhausted after what he calculated to be another eighteen-hour stint on the bridge, she leant against the desk, fingertips fanning in support as she eased the weight from her right leg.  He saw the pain flicker in her eyes and in response, his voice softened.

“Every time you’re badly hurt.”

For a moment, his care enveloped her like a gentle mist. A soft cloud smoothing the worry lines etched around her eyes, fading the blue-grey circles from lack of sleep, restoring the pink to the apples of her cheeks.

The moment ended.

“I’m the Captain.”  

A core of steel, betraying no hint of emotion as she threw her shoulders back and walked past him to the viewport, cradling her mug.

 

# #

The third time, it was a severe head injury.

Multiple skull fractures, contusions, brain tissue oedema, damage to this centre and that. Chakotay stopped listening as the Doctor paced and talked, talked and paced. He stared at the unconscious figure on the bed, willing his stomach not to expel the remains of a hastily eaten lunch, the sound of Tom comforting a sobbing Naomi Wildman resonating. When they woke her, being closest he was directly in the firing line.  Without warning, Kathryn rolled over and vomited, a pungent mixture of coffee and bile splattering onto the toes of his boots as her entire frame shook. Wearily, Chakotay cradled her shoulders, dabbing her lips and shushing her embarrassment.  He was surprised when she reached for his hand and held it tightly. He didn't want to let go, but at that moment the red alert klaxons started to wail and he was called back to the bridge.

For the first time in years, she didn’t beat him to it.

In the words of their illustrious EMH, it took all of his expertise to put Humpty-Dumpty back together again, and thirty-six hours later when she re-assumed command, Kathryn looked as well as could be expected. But Chakotay felt a nagging unease and instead of taking his Holodeck time, feigned a problem with the duty roster. He retired to his office, where he sat for close to three hours, drinking tea and hoping that his gut was wrong.

At just after thirteen hundred hours, his Comm badge chirped - Naomi’s voice.

“The Captain would like a moment sir if it’s convenient?”

He affirmed as casually as possible, simultaneously slipping on his jacket while jogging down the corridor.  Strolling onto the bridge to find Harry at the Engineering station, deep in conversation with B’Elanna and Icheb, he slipped discretely across to Ops, a wide-eyed Wildman waiting.

“In the ready room,” she spluttered, the quake in her voice causing him to offer an easy-going smile before heading to chime the door.   

He always expected to find Kathryn at her desk and the sight of her knelt beside the couch, forehead resting on folded arms, came as an unwelcome surprise.  He strode over, crouching to place his hands on her shoulders, her name on his lips.

Complexion chalk white, she lifted her head, glancing in disgust at a small puddle of recently regurgitated coffee rapidly drying by her feet.

Her voice was thick.  “I just need… an analgesic.”

He spoke softly.  “Of course, but let me accompany you.”

She hesitated, but he was well prepared.  “I’ll beam straight back. Harry’s doing a fine impersonation of me anyway.”

A second later they materialised in sickbay.  Somehow she had ended up in his arms and he held her for a moment, giving a warning look to the Doctor who was already muttering his frustration, before untangling their limbs.  Kathryn curled onto her side, eyes screwed shut against the pain, one hand clamped over her mouth as she dry heaved. He couldn’t breathe until the hypospray took effect. Her eventual shudder of relief causing one hand to fold tightly around hers, the other, a tightly balled fist at his side.

Further surgery cleared the remnants of an errant blood clot while a second serious encounter with the Fendomar resulted in a period of almost continuous, ship-wide red alert.  The crew worked around the clock and it was Icheb’s tactical brilliance that played a major role in getting them past the hostile alien armada.

Chakotay couldn’t have been prouder of the young man.

It was B’Elanna who found her, a week or so later.  At 03:00 hours, asleep in a Jefferies tube after pulling a double shift.  On his arrival in Engineering, their Chief Engineer gestured towards the open hatch, giving him a look that was beginning to become all too familiar.

“Sleeping beauty here is all yours.  You know Chakotay—“

Easing long legs into the cramped space, his lower back protesting, he turned to warn her.  

“I know B’Elanna, just give me some time.”

# #

The fourth time, was one too many.

Another away mission that she had insisted upon, another time she had ignored his suggestion that Tom and Icheb would be equally capable of traversing the planet’s hostile terrain and as it turned out, its equally hostile inhabitants.  Another call to sickbay resulting in a run of palpitations so violent that he felt his heart might fail. But this time the Doctor sat Chakotay down in his office and read him the holographic version of the riot act.

“Commander, I won’t stand by and let the Captain unnecessarily risk her life again. Her body has already been through more trauma than I’d like and at her age–,”

Chakotay’s response had been instant.  “I understand Doctor. This was the last time.”

Sat in her quarters thirty-six hours later, he picked up the PADD and began to read: “a second fracture to the pelvis, resulting in extensive damage to the left kidney and severe haemorrhage requiring transfusion. Spiral fracture to the neck of the femur, compounding the previous injury to the right hip…”

Her gaze flicked upwards.

“...spinal trauma, fracture of three vertebrae, cardiac arrhythmia from penetrating chest injury, collapsed lung requiring surgery. Burns to thirty per cent of the face, neurological trauma, near permanent damage to right eye…”

Kathryn took a sip of wine from the long-stemmed glass.  “Alright, Chakotay, I’ll bite. What’s your point?”

Deliberately lowering the PADD, he squared his shoulders and, leaning forwards, took a deep breath.

“I can’t let you continue.”

An arched eyebrow, the faintest of blushes spreading upwards from her throat as she sat back and crossed her legs.   

“Unless I’m mistaken, the Doctor cleared me for duty.”

With the EMH’s vociferous threat to remove her command on medical grounds still ringing loudly in his ears, he chose his next words with care. Aware that they were by necessity a weapon engineered piece by piece over nearly two decades working side by side.

“This is no longer about you.  It’s unfair on the crew and it’s become a distraction that’s standing in the way of getting _Voyager_ home.”

The shot hit target and his heart sank watching her jaw tighten, hands dropping to a controlled clasp in her lap as he continued.

“It’s time we both faced the fact that it’s not in _Voyager_ ’s best interest for things to stay as they are.  We need to make way.”

She threw a scowl in his direction.  “So it’s _we_ now?”

He shrugged.  “I’ve already taken a step back, adapted to more of an in-house role, mentoring the junior officers with—”

“—The benefit of your considerable experience?”

He sighed sharply at the barb.  “We need to ensure they’re prepared and frankly, I could use your support.”

Palms braced against the table, Kathryn pushed her chair outwards, abandoning him for the viewport.  They shared a lingering silence, until she spoke again, her voice just above a gravel soft whisper.

“I’m tired, Chakotay.  So tired I can’t remember the last time I felt like myself.”

Easing up onto the balls of aching feet, he straightened his jacket with a tug and walked the handful of steps to stand at her left shoulder.

“I know.”

For the first time, her voice cracked, the words muffled by fingers curled tightly against her lips.

“I promised the crew... I’d get them home.”

He murmured his understanding softly, hands easing her shoulders back until she came to rest against his chest, her head heavy against his sternum.

“And you still will. Continuing our journey, they’ll need your guidance more Kathryn; not less.”

He could feel her trembling, the rawness of the emotion coursing through her body, but he couldn’t deny the veracity of her grief and so simply rode out the storm alongside.  Finally, she reached for the hands draped around her shoulders, giving them a light squeeze.

Her voice still shook a little. “What were you thinking I’d teach?”

He allowed his face to relax into a half-smile.  “There’s so much they could learn from you, I’m not sure where I’d start.”

Turning to face him, she huffed lightly.  “Let me guess, your specialities include Maquis tactics and managing stubborn Starfleet captains?”

He recognised the teasing with a slight shake of his head as Kathryn eased herself onto the couch, tugging at her right boot with a grimace.

“A Captain who apparently, doesn’t know when to quit.”

The words resulted in an ache deep within his chest and resisting the urge to lean down and lift her chin, instead he lowered himself to sit opposite her, propping his elbows on his knees.

“A brilliant, dedicated Captain, who has done an outstanding job and built a fine crew alone out here.”

Ceasing her movement, Kathryn eyed him thoughtfully, with an expression of such sincerity that he had to remind himself to exhale.

“I was never alone, Chakotay.”

Lowering his gaze from hers, it fell to her forearm, traces of jagged pink scar tissue still yet to fully heal, circling her wrist and extending tendril-like along slightly swollen fingers.  She offered him a slightly wry smile.

”Well, if not my brain, my body is definitely telling me it’s time to take a back seat.  Promise me I haven’t been insufferable?”

He thought of the many hours spent sat beside her in sickbay and considered at this point, whether the truth was of any value.  

“Not for a moment.”

His reward was to watch the tension in her eyes fade, the lines around her mouth melting as she lengthened her neck, stretching it from side to side.

“I’m assuming that you no longer want the job?”

He released a chuckle.  “I’m definitely too old.”

A shake of her head in apparent disbelief, Kathryn eased her right foot up onto the coffee table, a final flick sending the offending boot bouncing across the floor.  She leant back and on reflex, he extended an arm along the couch.

“Well, in that case, Harry is the obvious choice. Tom as first officer, Ayala at the helm with Miral waiting in the wings given her lineage.  Naomi will be excellent at ops given a little more support and Icheb’s a natural at tactical.”

He nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

His fingertips found the top of her shoulder, and slowly he massaged circles over the joint. Kathryn rolled her head further into the crook of his arm with a contented sigh.

“We always were a great team.”

He pulled her closer. “I was thinking how much I’d like us to stay a team. In fact, how much I’d like us to explore what kind of team we could be outside of the command structure.”

Her lips twisting, Kathryn tilted her head to look at him through slightly lowered lashes. “I guess it’s about time.”

And then she swatted him playfully on the knee.  “I do hope that’s not the real reason you want me to retire, Chakotay?”

Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her tightly and silenced her with a kiss.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  


 


End file.
